


Cutest Couple in the FBI

by supernatural9917



Series: Destiel Smut Bingo 2018 [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sharing a Bed, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernatural9917/pseuds/supernatural9917
Summary: Cas and Dean are working a case in a hippie commune, and for some reason, everybody thinks they're together. They decide to go with it when one of the hippies tells them it will make people more cooperative. This may cause complications.Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018 and forathaclena'sbirthday on the 12th!





	Cutest Couple in the FBI

**Author's Note:**

  * For [athaclena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athaclena/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my darling [athaclena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athaclena)! Hope you enjoy this fluffy smut!

'Thank you, Ms Ravenwood,' Dean finishes, flipping his notebook closed. 'If you think of anything else, please give us a call.' He hands her one of his FBI business cards, and the woman tucks it into her purse, exchanging it for her own card that Dean sticks in his pocket without reading.

'I will, Agent Page. I hope you can figure out what happened to poor Stephanie.'

'Me too, ma'am. You have a good day now.'

She starts to walk away, then turns back for a final word. 'By the way, agents… I don't mean to be a busybody, but… well, in case you haven't noticed, this is a very liberal community.'

Dean smiles. 'Yes ma'am, we had gathered that.' It's pretty hard to miss- the place literally refers to itself as a hippie commune, there are rainbow flags everywhere- and flags with other colours that probably mean stuff Dean has no clue about- and the anti-Trump sentiment is pretty clear. The coffee shop they're in right now has a giant papier mâché model of Trump's head with devil horns and a forked tongue in the window, so yeah, he'd noticed.

'So, what I'm saying is… the whole suited-up fed thing might put some people off. You might want to go more casual.'

Dean looks at Cas, who's self-consciously touching his beloved trenchcoat like it's been personally offended. 'We'll keep that in mind, ma'am.'

'Also… I imagine there are FBI rules about professional behaviour and whatnot, but… I don't think anybody would mind if you and your boyfriend were open about your relationship.'

Dean really wishes he hadn't chosen that moment to take a sip of his coffee, because now he's coughing and choking, and Cas is putting a gentle hand on his back with a concerned look on his face, which isn't going to help the mistaken impression Ms Ravenwood seems to be under.

'Are you all right De- Agent Page?' Cas asks, and Ms Ravenwood grins.

'It's fine, Agent Jones, you can call him dear if you want. Like I said, nobody here minds. In fact, I think you'll find everyone much more cooperative if they know you're both part of the community.'

'The community?' Dean chokes out between coughs.

'The LGBTTQQIAAP community,' she says, and shit, that's a hell of a lot more letters than Dean remembers it being. 'Our little town was founded as a safe haven for the community and knowing that you're part of it will definitely make everyone more open to speak to you.'

'That's good to know, thank you again, ma'am.' She nods with satisfaction and makes her way out of the coffee shop. The second she's out the door, Dean bangs his head on the table. He's going to kill Sam. Mr 'I think this case is perfect for you and Cas' and 'I promised Jody I'd go up to Sioux Falls anyway' and that little knowing smirk of which Dean should have been much more suspicious. As soon as he gets back to the bunker, there will be murder. No- torture, then murder. There's not a jury in the country that would convict him.

He's interrupted in his bloodthirsty thoughts by Cas's voice. 'Dean? Are you OK?'

'Fine,' he replies through gritted teeth. 'Let's go back to the motel.' He stands up and tosses some bills on the table, and Cas follows him to the Impala. 'We need to put on some casual clothes, apparently.'

'And discuss our relationship,' Cas adds, which makes Dean stop in his tracks.

'What?'

'Ms Ravenwood seemed to think that we were in a romantic relationship, and that making this more obvious would help our investigation.'

Dean clears his throat and gets in the car. Once Cas is in, he starts her up and pulls away from the curb. 'You caught that, huh?'

Cas rolls his eyes. 'I have managed to pick up some understanding of human communication in my ten years on earth.'

'Right. So, uh…'

'I think if it helps the investigation, maybe we should just go with it. Pretend to be a couple.'

Dean squeezes the steering wheel. 'Right. Pretend to be a couple.'

'The films where this trope is used indicate that we should come up with a story about our relationship, and enough details that make it seem realistic, but sticking as close to the truth as possible to avoid becoming ensnared in complex lies.'

'That's pretty much the standard for any hustle, Cas.'

Cas nods. 'Yes, of course. You are the expert in "the hustle." So we just need to come up with a suitable backstory. I suggest that we met at work, became work partners, and then during a stake-out, the sexual tension became too much to bear and we succumbed to our passion.'

Dean's face goes red. 'We banged on the job? I think we'd get in trouble for that.'

'Luckily our bosses never found out, because we successfully solved the case despite the distraction.'

Dean shakes his head. 'What I want to know is, why do people always assume I'm gay? It used to happen with Sammy all the time, now with you. What the hell?'

'Maybe they assume you're bisexual,' Cas replies, as if that were the problem, and Dean's brain flashes the alarm at the sound of the B-word.

'Why would you say that?' he asks nervously.

'Say what?'

'That I'm bisexual. Why would you say I'm bisexual?'

'I just meant that maybe people don't assume you only like men, they might assume that you like men and women.' He tilts his head questioningly. ' _Are_ you bisexual?'

Dean whips his head around to look at Cas in a panic, then back at the road. 'What? No. Of course not. No. Pfft. What? No.' He gulps and looks at Cas, who's raising an eyebrow and looking unimpressed with Dean's denials. 'Maybe?'

Cas nods. 'Good. That will make it easier in case we have to kiss.'

Dean swerves wildly, barely correcting in time to avoid hitting a lamppost. 'Kiss?' he squeaks.

'Couples kiss, Dean,' Cas explains as if he were a child. 'Depending on context, we may have to have public displays of affection. Since we both feel sexual attraction to men, that should make it a bit easier.'

Dean just about manages to keep himself and the car under control. 'You feel… that… to men?' he asks breathlessly.

'Of course. I'm indifferent to gender and sexual orientation.'

'But you are interested in… people… sexing?' Dean asks awkwardly, and immediately wants to bash out his brains against the steering wheel.

Cas looks at him like he's a particularly stupid puppy who keeps missing the newspaper. 'Yes, I am interested in "people sexing," Dean. I have had sex, if you remember,' he says indignantly. 'And although the situation was deeply problematic in terms of both consent and, you know, murder, I found the orgasms very enjoyable.'

Dean splutters and chokes on his own spit. Here he is, just driving down the road, praying for death, and Cas, Castiel, former Angel of the Goddamn Lord, just said orgasms like it's no big deal. Just up and says that he like dudes and enjoys orgasms and wants to pretend to have a relationship with Dean for the sake of the case where they might have to kiss in public and now Dean is imagining Cas's tongue in his mouth, fuck fuck fuck.

Thankfully Cas stops talking after that, and Dean manages to get them to the motel without further incident. He parks in front of their room and strides up to the door quickly, but the motel manager is standing in front of their door looking worried, and that's never good. That usually means that housekeeping was snooping around and found one too many guns.

'Agents! I'm so sorry about this, but I'm going to have to change your room,' the guy says, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

'What happened?'

'The room above you had a pipe burst, and there's likely to be substantial water damage to the ceiling. I was waiting for you so you can go in and pick up your things, and then I'll take you to your new room.'

'Appreciate it. Just a sec.' Dean opens the door, and sure enough, there's a big chunk of wet plasterboard on one of the beds from where the ceiling came down, and water all over. Luckily it doesn't extend to the seating area or the closet where their stuff is stored, so Dean grabs everything up and tosses it into their duffel bags before stepping back out. He hands the manager the keys and lets the guy lead them to their new room.

'I feel so bad for the disruption, so as an apology, I've upgraded you to our best room. The honeymoon suite,' the manager says with a wink, and suddenly Dean has a horrible feeling about what's about to happen. 'Voila!'

Don't get him wrong, the room is nice, way nicer than a motel room has any right to be. The wallpaper isn’t stained, the carpet is in good condition, it even smells fresh.

It also only has one bed.

'Well isn't this lovely, dear?' Cas says, taking his arm. 'It seems that everyone in town has guessed our little secret.'

The manager looks smug. 'Ambrosia-Bluebell told me.'

'Who?' Dean asks, bewildered.

'Ms Ravenwood,' Castiel tells him. 'That was… fast. We only just spoke with her.'

'Oh no, she told me yesterday when you checked in. She was here dropping off my chakra re-aligners, and she said to me, "Gosh, aren't those two the most in love pair you've ever seen?" And that girl has never been wrong about that kinda thing. I think she's a little bit psychic.'

Dean feels himself start to tremble a bit, and Cas grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers. He catches Dean's eye and gives him a soft smile. 'Well, she's not wrong,' he says, and Dean isn't sure if he's saying it to the manager or to Dean; either way, it makes Dean's heart beat a mile a minute.

'Of course, I'll only charge you the basic rate,' the manager assures them. 'Enjoy the new room.' He leaves the keys on the table and excuses himself. When the door closes behind him, Cas lets go of Dean's hand and looks around the room.

'This is much nicer than the places we usually stay,' he says approvingly.

'There's only one bed,' Dean blurts out. 'And you sleep now.'

Cas smirks. 'But didn't you hear, Dean? Ambrosia-Bluebell says we're the most in love pair she's ever seen, and she's never wrong. It shouldn't be a problem to share the bed.'

Dean frowns and fidgets. He feels like he's being laid bare, everything he feels for Cas apparently so obvious to complete strangers that they all assume he and Cas are together, and Cas is just treating it like a big joke. It feels as painful as a flat-out rejection, which he guesses is essentially what it amounts to.

'Yeah, no problem,' Dean says flatly. 'It's pretty big anyway, we should be able to stay out of each other's way.'

'Dean, I-' Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off.

'It's fine. Let's just get changed and go do some interviews.' He takes his duffel to the bathroom and puts on his normal clothes. By the time he comes back out to hang up the fed suit, Cas has also changed. Dean didn't even realise he had other clothes, but there he is, wearing a couple of Dean's old shirts and a pair of jeans that probably make Cas's ass illegal in some countries.

Cas does a little twirl, a bashful smile on his face. 'What do you think?'

'Looks good,' Dean says, voice a little strangled. 'Real good.'

'Thank you,' Cas says softly. 'Um, should we come up with more details of our "relationship" before we go?'

Dean closes his eyes and sighs. Those fucking air quotes are so adorable, and he just wants to kiss Cas's stupid face. 'OK, like what?'

'How long have we been together?'

'Ten years,' Dean says without even having to think about it.

'Ah, yes, keeping the realism. OK, our favourite things about each other.'

Dean thinks for a moment. 'Your snarky sense of humour. How smart you are. Your eyes.'

Cas smiles again. 'I was going to say your eyes too. And your freckles. Your goodness. How you always take care of the people you love.'

Dean blushes, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'I thought we were trying not to tell too many lies.'

'I'm not lying,' Cas says harshly.

'Oh. OK.'

Cas walks over and puts his hand on the small of Dean's back, making Dean jump at the unexpected touch. 'I suppose we should practice some physical affection,' Cas says with a raised eyebrow. 'I don't think your reaction of horror at my touch will make for a convincing fake relationship.'

'Right. Sorry.' Dean lets himself relax as Cas rubs his hand up and down his back. 'Wasn't horror,' he explains. 'Just surprised.'

'It's OK, Dean, I understand.' He pulls Dean into a hug, and they just hold each other for a while. Dean breathes in Cas's scent, letting himself enjoy it a little more than usual under the guise of practicing relationship stuff. Cas brushes his fingers through the short, soft hairs at Dean's nape, and Dean closes his eyes, pretending that it's real for just a moment.

'OK, I'm ready,' he says, and Cas steps back. 'Let's start with the community centre, that seemed to be pretty busy.' Cas nods, and they head out, arriving at the community centre a few minutes later.

The receptionist doesn't really know anything about Stephanie- apparently, she was fairly new in town, having just moved here when her grandmother Beatrice, a founding resident, had taken ill. Beatrice had died a week before Stephanie, and that's the extent of the receptionist's knowledge.

'But Beatrice's friends might know more. Most of them are in the sewing club, which is meeting right now in room seven.'

'Thank you. If you think of anything else…' Dean says, and hands her a card.

'Sure thing. And can I just say, you guys are just as cute together as Ambrosia-Bluebell said.' She gives them a big grin, and Cas squeezes Dean's shoulder.

'That's sweet of you to say. Thanks for your help.' He nudges Dean towards the activity rooms, and they find room seven a hive of activity. About a dozen women and a handful of men, all looking to be over sixty, are looking through fabrics, sitting at sewing machines, or sewing by hand throughout the room. A man wearing an outfit that reminds Dean of his child psychologist get-up is wandering around with a clipboard, seemingly the leader, so they make a beeline to him.

'Oh, you must be the FBI couple I've heard so much about!' he says before they even introduce themselves.

'News really travels fast in this town,' Dean says with a forced smile. 'Let me guess- Ms Ravenwood?'

The man chuckles. 'Ambrosia-Bluebell loves love, and we don't get that many new faces around here. Getting two such…' he eyes them up and down appreciatively, ' _striking_ young gentlemen is news in itself, and when they're also part of the community- well, she gets excited.'

Cas runs his hand up and down Dean's arm as he gazes at him adoringly. 'We've been together ten years, and I still get excited when I see him, so I understand her enthusiasm,' he says, and Dean blushes to the tips of his ears. 'I'm Agent Jones, and this is Agent Page.'

The man shakes his extended hand. 'William King. I'm the administrator for this little group. I assume you want to know about Stephanie and Beatrice?'

'Yeah, the receptionist said Beatrice had a lot of friends in this group.'

'Oh, absolutely. She was the matriarch. Your best bet is Gertrude and Linda over there.' He indicates two women doing embroidery in the corner, who appear to be in their seventies. 'They were closest to Beatrice.' He looks sad. 'Their triad was a rock in our commune.'

'Triad?' Dean asks.

'Oh yes. The three of them were together for the best part of four decades.'

Dean's eyebrows shoot up. 'Like, _together_ together?'

Cas rolls his eyes. 'You'll have to excuse him. Agent Page isn't terribly well-versed in non-traditional romantic dynamics.' He leans in and winks. 'He doesn't like the idea of sharing.'

William gives Cas a knowing smile. 'I can't say I blame him with what he's got at home.' Dean still looks bewildered, so William explains. 'They were in a three-way relationship. Beatrice liked her independence, so she had her own place, but Gertrude and Linda live together and got married when it became legal. The three of them helped found the town, partly as a safe place for them to live their lives as they wanted, free from judgement.' He looks at Dean sternly.

'Hey, no, that's awesome,' Dean says. 'Whatever works for them. It's just not for me.' He puts his arm around Cas a bit awkwardly. 'I guess I'm just the jealous type.'

Cas smirks and kisses his cheek. 'Come on, then, dear, let's go talk to them.' They thank William for his help and approach the couple, who jump up excitedly.

'You must be the FBI agents!' cries the one with short turquoise hair. 'I'm Gertrude, and this is my wife, Linda.' The more traditionally grandmother-looking type smiles and nods.

'I'm Agent Page, this is Agent Jones,' Dean says.

'Oh, like Led Zeppelin!' Linda exclaims.

Cas smiles. 'Yes. I think that may be why our boss partnered us in the first place.'

'Well you're much better looking than your namesakes,' Gertrude assures them. 'Such a handsome couple.'

Dean blushes when Cas puts an arm around his waist. ' _He_ certainly is,' Cas says, this time putting a light peck almost at the corner of Dean's lips. Dean's eyes flutter closed for a second, the breath completely leaving his lungs.

'Trust me, honey, your butt fills out those jeans much better than John Paul Jones ever could,' Gertrude says, and Linda pokes her with a sharp elbow. 'What? I'm gay, not blind.'

Dean manages to recover himself enough to wink at them. 'Couldn't agree more, ladies. But before this all starts going to his head, mind if we ask a couple of questions?'

They agree, and the discussion with them proves to be more useful than any other interviews they've done. They learn that the victim had recently inherited her portion of her grandmother's estate, mainly a house packed to the rafters with what Linda called a mixture of antiques, junk, and New Age trinkets.

'Don't get me wrong, we loved her to pieces,' Linda says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, 'but she was such a hoarder, the goddess bless her soul.'

Stephanie had been in the process of clearing out the attic when she met her sticky end, and it sounds like a case of either cursed object or ghost. They thank Gertrude and Linda for their help, and when they turn to walk out, Cas slips his hand in the back pocket of Dean's jeans, keeping it there until they're out of sight.

After another visit to the police station, they get the go-ahead to visit the house, and it barely takes Cas five minutes to find what they're looking for- a box covered in protective runes sitting open under a window, a ring sitting inside it.

'It's definitely cursed,' he explains, 'and according to the runes, it can't be destroyed.' He closes the box, reading out the incantations to seal it inside the spell work again. 'We should take this back to the bunker.'

'Let's check for any other creepy shit,' Dean suggests, and they spend the next few hours hunting through the house for other items that might cause problems for the uninitiated. A few of the trinkets raise suspicion, and they go into a bag also covered in protective sigils that they had brought from the bunker. Satisfied that Stephanie will remain the only victim, they leave the house and return to the motel for showers and sleep.

'That was fun today,' Cas says after his turn in the surprisingly good honeymoon suite shower.

'Yeah, I love digging through some old lady's cursed crap,' Dean says dryly.

Cas glares. 'I meant that it's very refreshing being in such an open and welcoming place.'

'I guess,' Dean grumbles, getting under the covers. 'I'm going to sleep. Wanna leave early to get this stuff back to the bunker.' He isn't particularly tired, but he is grumpy and horny after all the touching with Cas today, and he just wants to turn out the light and not think about it for a while.

'Of course, Dean,' Cas sighs, and gets in the other side of the bed. He switches off the lamp on his side as Dean does the same. 'Goodnight.'

'Night, Cas.' He pauses, feeling guilty for killing Cas's buzz. 'Good job today. You're turning into a great hunter.'

'Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me. Sleep well.'

'You too.' Dean rolls over onto his side and hopes for sleep.

Cas is asleep within a few minutes, but Dean's still awake an hour later. There's a large space between them on the super king-size bed, but Dean is hyper-aware of Cas lying so much closer than usual. He aches with the desire to reach out and touch him, but the levity with which Cas treated their fake relationship assures him that it wouldn't be welcome. It's back to normal now, and he'll have to live without those touches after having tasted how it could be.

Dean must fall asleep eventually, because the next thing he knows he's waking up feeling surprisingly warm and content. It takes him a second to realise that it's because sometime in the night, he and Cas must each have migrated towards the middle of the bed, and now he's got his arms around Cas's shoulders and Cas is pillowed against his chest with his hair tickling Dean's nose.

Dean knows he should try to move, maybe wake Cas up to let him pull away, but fuck, he's loving this. He softly kisses Cas's hair while stroking his upper arm, closing his eyes and pretending that this is really his.

Cas stirs, just a small movement, and Dean feels a light kiss just above his heart. 'I wish this was real,' Cas murmurs, clearly still mostly asleep, but Dean's pretty sure his suddenly-pounding heart is going to wake him up any second.

'What did you say?' he whispers.

'Love you,' Cas mumbles with another kiss.

Dean wonders whether the tension the night before actually killed him and now he's in heaven, because Cas just confessed his love, and there's no way that can be real. He squeezes Cas tightly and whispers, 'I love you, too, Cas.'

Cas jerks up, staring at Dean with wide, startled eyes. 'Dean?'

Fear grips Dean, squeezing his throat, twisting his stomach, but he forces himself to keep looking at Cas. 'Did you mean it?'

'Mean what?' Cas asks warily.

'You said you wish it was real. You said you…'

It's Cas's turn to blush. 'I said I love you.'

'So did you mean it?'

'You said it too,' Cas deflects. 'Did you mean it?'

Hell, everything is already beyond fucked. Might as well go for it. 'Yeah.'

Cas's smile is like a beam of sunshine. 'I meant it. I thought I was dreaming when I woke up in your arms.'

'But you seemed to treat the whole fake relationship thing like a big joke,' Dean says with a hint of bitterness.

'I was trying to keep from showing my true feelings,' Cas admits. 'I thought if I "played it cool" you wouldn't be able to tell how much I was enjoying pretending to be together.'

'It worked. I thought I was the only one who liked all the, you know…'

'Affection?' Dean nods. 'Dean, I loved being able to touch you so freely, to kiss your cheek. I enjoyed it very much.'

'So we both want it for real?' Dean asks tentatively.

'Apparently,' Cas says with a shy smile.

'Awesome,' Dean grins, and next thing he knows, he's got almost six feet of fallen angel lying on top of him and kissing him like it's going out of style.

'Dean,' Cas pants, 'we don't have to check out for three more hours.'

'Do you have something in mind for how to spend them?' Dean asks, letting his hands slip down Castiel's back to cup his ass.

'I may have an idea or two.' Cas kisses him again, but then sits up, straddling Dean's lap as he takes off his t-shirt. He tugs at Dean's until he comes forward enough to get his shirt off, and now they're down to just boxer-briefs. Dean pulls Cas down to feel skin against skin, and they both sigh over the increased intimacy.

'Hey Cas? Those ideas of yours… any chance they involve orgasms?' Dean asks with a cheeky smirk.

'Most of the ideas I have about you involve orgasms,' Cas admits, 'but this will be the first time I don't have to have one alone.'

'Fuck,' Dean growls, getting the delicious image in his head of Cas getting himself off while fantasising about Dean. 'We should get naked.'

'Good idea.' Cas wriggles his way out of boxers, then pulls Dean's off with enthusiasm. 'Even better than I remembered,' Cas sighs.

'Uh… what?'

'I put your body back together, Dean. I saw every inch of you. Unfortunately, I was too much of an angel to appreciate it then.' He runs a finger down Dean's length, then lowers himself down until Dean can feel his breath against the tip. 'I fully appreciate it now.' He takes Dean into his mouth, and it's all Dean can do not to thrust up into the glorious wet heat.

'Cas!' he cries out when a fingertip brushes somewhere very unexpected.

'Do you think you'd like that, Dean?' Cas asks suggestively, his voice even lower than usual. 'I think I would.'

Dean swallows hard, but nods. 'Yeah. I think I would too.'

'I would love to have you inside me, too. Can you picture that?'

'Fuck yeah. Want to.'

'When we get back to the bunker, we'll have to do some experimenting. Unless you happen to have… supplies with you?'

Dean groans. 'No.'

Cas shrugs. 'That's OK. There are other ways.' With that, he takes Dean into his mouth again, and with the hell-for-leather pace he's taking, it doesn't take long for Dean to tug his hair in warning. Cas doesn't move away, just takes Dean further in, and Dean comes down his throat with a shout.

'Holy shit, Cas,' he says breathlessly when Cas snuggles up against his side. 'That was awesome.' He slips his hand between them and feels that Cas is still hard. 'You want me to return the favour?' Not waiting for an answer, he flips Cas onto his back and starts kissing his way down Cas's body. 'So fuckin' hot, Cas. The way you looked in those jeans… fuck.'

His tongue flicks out to tease at the head of Cas's cock, eliciting a sharp gasp from Cas. Grinning at that response, Dean does it again and again, little kitten licks along the edge of the head, and down the shaft. He's just about to try and see how much he can get into his mouth when his phone rings. He rests his forehead against Cas's hip, and Cas huffs in frustration before grabbing it from the nightstand.

'It's Sam.' To Dean's surprise, he actually answers it. 'What?' he asks irritably.

'Cas? Hey, what's up, just checking in.'

'We found the cursed object,' he says, running his fingers through Dean's hair. Dean smiles, then winks and gets back what he was doing before the interrupting moose called. 'Ah!' Cas gasps.

'Everything OK there?' Sam asks with concern.

'Fine. Dean just unexpectedly started fellating me again.'

Dean chokes a bit, popping off Cas's cock to glare at him, while Sam makes a distressed sort of gurgling noise. 'Again?'

'Well, he stopped when you called, but then he started again. He's stopped now.'

'What's going on over there?'

Dean motions for Cas to pass over the phone. When he gets it, he puts it on speaker. 'Hey Sammy. Long story short, everybody thought we were a couple, we pretended for a while, decided we liked it, and now we're doing fun stuff with our naughty parts. Call ya when we're headin' out.' He hangs up before Sam can demand more details and switches the phone off. 'I can't believe you told Sam I was blowing you,' he smirks.

'It seemed the fastest way to get him off the phone.'

'You know there's gonna be a million questions when we get back.'

'I'll be happy to answer them then. Right now, the only question is, why aren't you blowing me?' He raised one eyebrow, sending a shiver down Dean's spine.

'Good question. I'll get right on that.' With another wink, he gives Cas the top-of-the-line blue ribbon Dean Winchester Oral Sex Experience, and judging by the way Cas screams his way through his orgasm, it works.

Cas pulls Dean up to cuddle, exchanging soft kisses now that the immediate hunger is sated. 'I love you,' he whispers, 'my beautiful righteous man.'

'Love you, too, angel.'

'I'm not an angel anymore, Dean.'

Dean gives him another kiss. 'You'll always be my angel,' he says, then makes a face. 'Jesus, I'm five minutes into a relationship, and I'm already a complete sap.'

Cas smiles and kisses Dean's nose. 'I won't tell anyone.'

After lounging around for a while, they decide to take a shower, this time exchanging languid handjobs under the rainfall shower head, before getting ready to leave town.

'Hey, maybe we should go thank Ampersand-Bobblewobble before we leave town,' Dean jokes.

'Ambrosia-Bluebell,' Cas corrects him with a small smile. 'And maybe we should. Do you have her card?'

'Oh yeah, I think it's in my jacket pocket.' He digs it out and starts laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

'What is it?' Cas asks, and Dean hands him the card. It's a soft pink with roses and hearts along the border, and Cas can see why Dean is so amused.

_Ambrosia-Bluebell Ravenwood_

_Professional Matchmaker_


End file.
